A Quote by Heinrich Heine

Sleep is lovely, death is better still, not to have been born is of course the miracle. — © Heinrich Heine
Sleep is lovely, death is better still, not to have been born is of course the miracle.
Sleep is good, death is better; but of course, the best thing would to have never been born at all.
Lo, sleep is good, better is death--in sooth The best of all were never to be born.
Death is not as terrible as you think. It comes to you as a healer. Sleep is nothing but a counterfeit death. What happens in death we can picture in sleep. All our sufferings vanish in sleep. When death comes, all our mortal tortures cease; they cannot go beyond the portals of death.
Methought I heard a voice cry 'Sleep no more! Macbeth does murder sleep', the innocent sleep, Sleep that knits up the ravell'd sleeve of care, The death of each day's life, sore labour's bath, Balm of hurt minds, great nature's second course, Chief nourisher in life's feast...
I'm sure it's not any wish of mine that I'm born with inclinations for better things. If I could be born again, and had the designing of myself, I'd be born the lowest and coarsest-minded person imaginable, so that I could find plenty of companionship, or I'd be born an idiot, which would be better still.
Whatever happens, they say afterwards, it must have been fate. People are always a little confused about this, as they are in the case of miracles. When someone is saved from certain death by a strange concatenation of circumstances, they say that's a miracle. But of course if someone is killed by a freak chain of events -- the oil spilled just there, the safety fence broken just there -- that must also be a miracle. Just because it's not nice doesn't mean it's not miraculous.
Yeah, if it hadn't been for me everybody'd be a lot better off--my wife and my kids and my friends.... I wish I'd never been born.I suppose it'd been better if I'd never been born at all.
I would have liked to catch hold of sleep at least once, just as I had been resolved to catch hold of death one day, to catch hold of the wings of the angel of sleep when it came for me, to grab it with two fingers like a butterfly after sneaking up on it from behind. [...] My sleep game was practice for the grand struggle with death.
[Speaking] is never without fear; of visibility, of the harsh light of scrutiny and perhaps judgment, of pain, of death. But we have lived through all of those already, in silence, except death. And I remind myself all the time now, that if I were to have been born mute, and had maintained an oath of silence my whole life for safety, I would still have suffered, and I would still die.
Naptime,? said Christian, leading her toward the bed. ?I still need a shower.? ?Sleep first. Shower later.? He pulled back the covers. ?I?ll sleep with you.? ?Sleep or sleep?? she asked dryly, sliding gratefully into bed. ?Real sleep. You need it.? He crawled in beside her, spooning against her and resting his face on her shoulder. ?Of course, afterward, if you want to conduct any official Council business...? ?I swear, if you say ‘Little Dragomirs,? you can sleep in the hall.
We are not better than native born Americans, and of course not smarter. We’ve just been to the last stop of this bus.
We think birth is a miracle and death is a tragedy, but really they're flip sides of the same coin - anything born is gonna die.
Sleep is cousin-german unto death: Sleep and death differ, no more, than a carcass And a skeleton.
Life is a miracle; walking is a miracle; watching the sunset is a miracle; everything is a miracle, because existence is a miracle!
Is it worth it to be born if you cannot remember it later? And, technically speaking, had I ever been born? Other people, of course, said that I was. As far as I know, I was born in late April, at sixty years of age, in a hospital room.
Underneath me, Sam Grest - who'd been my friend and saved my life - lay perfectly still and slipped further and further into the final sleep of an unfair and horrible death.
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